Savior
by JETaylor75
Summary: Original short story written in 2008 (Season 3): It has been years since Sam has tangled with the police, but now he is facing charges for the death of his family.


**Savior**

_Supernatural Fan Fiction Written by J.E. Taylor_

_Originally written in 2008_

Sam sat in the interrogation room, handcuffed to the desk with his head bowed. He caught his reflection in the two-way mirror, staring at the familiar blue-green irises surrounded by aging crow's feet and his once dark hair now peppered with streaks of white. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his woobling gaze. Tears dripped off his eyelashes onto the fabric of his jeans.

The mangled remains of his wife and children played across his field of vision every time he closed his eyes. A hollow pain in the center of his chest grew with every tear, along with the paralyzing grief keeping him immobile and silent.

The door swung open and he stiffened, blinking the remaining tears from his eyes and regaining composure. He raised his gaze to the woman, the officer, sitting across from him.

"Tell me what happened, from the top," Detective Howard requested.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. "I didn't kill my family." His vision misted with tears and he blinked them back, pushing the emotions down into the well of his soul.

She leaned forward on the table. "Then who the hell did?"

He ground his teeth together before he spoke. "I don't know."

She took a deep breath and the tense muscles in her jaw line relaxed. "Tell me what you do for a living."

He knew the drill and recognized her change of tactics, but her frustration still reflected in her eyes. "I'm a hunter."

"What exactly do you hunt?" she asked. The tape recorder spun, picking up every word of the interrogation.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Bitterness crept into his skin and he offered a smile relaying the sentiment. The flash of aggravation in her eyes manifested and his smile disappeared. He narrowed his eyes, scanning her, looking for a sign, anything, but she was just a hick-town cop. He exhaled the air locked in his chest, his muscles relaxing a fraction, even though his intuition prickled with danger.

She stared at him, scanning his sculpted frame and his handsome face. This man had aged well and he stirred something deep inside her—a completely inappropriate protective instinct considering the circumstances. She had caught him with his family's blood on his hands and his prints on the knife used to carve them up. Yet she still had her doubts.

"Try me." She leaned forward on the interrogation desk.

Sam glanced at the mirrored wall. "He knows." He nodded toward the glass. "Why don't you ask him?" He returned his gaze to her.

Detective Howard turned toward the mirror. "No one's in there," she said. At least there hadn't been anyone there when she entered the room.

The laugh that escaped from Sam's chest was low and menacing, producing goose bumps on her thin, graceful arms. He tilted his head to the side, moving his gaze from her to the glass and a crevice of concentration appeared between his eyes.

The sharp echo of cracking glass filled the room and Detective Howard pushed her chair back. Shock raked over her skin like a mini-electric shock, raising the hair on her arms and neck and perpetuating the shiver that his laugh had started. A crack spindled out from the center of the mirror like a spider web and she was sure this man was causing the glass to crumble. Her gaze shot to Sam.

With the handcuffs no longer clasped on his right wrist, he extended his arm, his hand reaching toward the glass. Sam dipped his head further, glaring out from behind his bangs, focused.

The glass imploded, turning to dust, and she gasped at both the display of mental power and the vision of an officer standing rigid in the space behind the defunct mirror. The officer's head tilted back, his eyes rolled, showing only whites, and his mouth open in a silent scream choked off by a stream of black smoke.

Sam mumbled incoherent commands, each verse causing more black smoke to release from the officer. Sweat broke out on Sam's forehead, and dark circles surfaced under his eyes, yet he continued reciting the familiar chant.

A stream of smoke exploded from the mouth of the officer, billowing up into the ceiling, leaving a large black spot like someone took a blowtorch and scorched the material in a perfect sphere.

The officer fell to the floor, out of her field of vision and her first instinct was to run to his aid, but she couldn't move from the seat.

Sam lowered his arm, leaning back as the shackle holding his bound hand released. He mopped his face with his sleeve before returning his focus to the detective.

"I didn't kill my family." He resumed the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Detective Howard's eyes darted between Sam and the observation room, where the officer was coming to.

"Wha—" She couldn't form words and reached for the glass next to the recorder. Droplets of water jumped from the cup as her shaking hand brought it to her lips and she forced the cool liquid down her dry throat. A tingle in her shoulder morphed into a wild itch and she ignored it, setting the cup on the table with a steadier hand.

"What exactly do you hunt?" Her voice cracked despite her attempt at controlling the fear that had wrapped around her like an unwelcomed blanket.

"Evil things."

"Was your family evil? Is that why you killed them?" she asked, scratching her shoulder.

Sam shook his head. "I didn't kill my family. I think my brother did."

"Your brother died twenty years ago. How is that possible?" Her eyes darted to the confused officer now sitting up and glancing around the observation room.

Sam offered a shrug. "Sometimes they come back." He rubbed his face. "And what returns isn't the same." His eyelids drooped as he met her gaze, deflating before her eyes as the exhaustion took hold. "It's my job to hunt them down."

Detective Howard's eyebrows raised high. "Hunt _what_ down?"

He pointed toward the observation room. "Demons. Like the one that possessed him. It's my job to send them back."

"Are you saying a demon killed your family?"

Sam nodded, wiping tears from his haunted eyes. "So, unless you want to see what Armageddon looks like, you better let me do my job."

He stood and walked out of the interrogation room.

She made no attempt to stop him.

"He's not our guy," she said to the questioning stare of the officer. The itch in her shoulder morphed into a burning sensation and she rubbed it to quell the irritation. Picking up the tape recorder, she returned to her office and closed the door.

Heat from her skin radiated through her shirt and she pulled up her sleeve, revealing the glowing insignia embedded in her flesh.

"That's impossible."

Only one person on Earth could activate the emblem and save her soul.

He would save all their souls.

Detective Howard looked at her wide-eyed reflection and then down at the cassette in her hand.

Slowly, she began to pull the tape out.

**The End**


End file.
